


Pho Means Fuck Me

by WomanFromTRASH



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Asian Food, M/M, cumslut, sex toy fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WomanFromTRASH/pseuds/WomanFromTRASH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Napoleon expects Illya to be icy, hard to seduce and even harder to please. But Illya is possibly the most eager, hedonistic partner Napoleon has ever had in bed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pho Means Fuck Me

The girl leaves in the strapping arms of her fiancee, who showed up at the last moment to keep her virtue safe from the spies--that is, after she'd joked that she could not decide between the two men and ought to, like the slices of cake that she was about to eat both of (one cherry chocolate cheesecake, implied to possess the seductive qualities of Napoleon, and one a lemon chiffon cake, implied to embody the fun and tempting qualities of Illya,), enjoy both in her bed that night. 

"I'm glad she's gone," Illya said. 

Napoleon pushed both slices of cake towards Illya and rolled his eyes. Illya happily began to help himself to alternating bites of each cake. 

"And to think," he complained, "I was planning a dinner for us three already." 

Illya looked up with some great interest in his eyes. "I ought to have some real food--after I replenish my blood sugar. What were you planning?" 

"A romantic dinner--asparagus. Oysters. The like. To keep everyone in the mood." 

"It never would have worked on me," Illya says, forking whipped lemon frosting onto his bite of cheesecake. 

"Oh?" Napoleon asks. "That's right--you seem to prefer food to women, frankly." 

"Asparagus tastes like grass, and the aftereffect is awful. Oysters--they are like eating snot. The duck is a good idea, though." Illya pushed away the cake. "I seem to have been losing my appetite for sweets lately. Is duck still on offer?" 

"No point, now that the lady's lost interest." 

"I like duck." 

"But you're not the one who's going to be hopping into bed with me, now, are you?" 

Illya merely shrugged and looked away. "Well, if you bothered to buy me duck, I would." 

Napoleon ground his teeth. It was time to call the junior agent's bluff. "All right, Illya, I'll buy you duck at Wong Foo's--with asparagus and oyster sauce over fried rice." The Russian wouldn't turn down the kind of fine dining that Napoleon always thought of as vaguely Continental, but nothing quite made his eyes light up like the salty, greasy Chinese food that New York City excelled in. 

"If you add eggrolls and those little crab puffs to the order, I might let you get to third base," said Illya, and Napoleon could feel them veer off-camera, off-script. 

*

Napoleon had thought of seducing Illya, just to see if it was possible. The Russian was acerbic, sometimes childishly easy to please and sometimes extraordinarily grumpy. He liked to pick at Napoleon's attempts at seducing women, and actively balked from any kind of romantic interest. 

Sometimes Napoleon thought that he would have to play a long game, ply Illya with candlelit dinners and champagne, to pamper and flatter him. Sometimes he imagined it would be a matter of shoving Illya against the wall, pretending to pull rank, forcing the situation just a little so Illya could either finally give in under an ego-saving veneer of protestations or simply deck him in the jaw and erase his fantasies forever. Sometimes he thought he'd have to beg at Illya's feet, offer to debase himself just for a chance to see Illya moan and writhe under him. 

He never dreamed it would take a carton of Chinese food, and merely asking. 

*

Riding the subway was a kind of treat sometimes, a break from the intense grip of surveillance for Napoleon and a chance to see the most colorful scenes in New York for Illya. They ate Chinese food from cardboard cartons arranged on a seat between them while people streamed on and off the cars, quietly discussing what kind of supervillain they might be. 

It was a date, Napoleon realized, the kind of loose, informal date he'd used to go on as a teenager. Illya looked up and smiled at him, ferrying a piece of crispy duck to his mouth with chopsticks, and Napoleon was lost. 

They stumbled into Napoleon's apartment, and Illya pulled Napoleon onto the sofa. They wriggled out of clothes and pressed their bodies together without ever turning on the light, Illya eager to spread out and plaster his body against Napoleon's, his lips against Napoleon's, feeling each others' bodies more than trying to reach any kind of peak. 

Then it was Illya with his head bobbing eagerly between Napoleon's legs, finding the KY and insisting that Napoleon finger him bent across the arm of the sofa, and finally stumbling to the bed where he slid onto Napoleon's cock and rode him, hips pistoning forward, until he came in wild spurts of pearly come all over Napoleon's stomach. 

*

They reported back to UNCLE in the morning, of course. Illya looked drawn and squirrely, while Napoleon seemed distracted and dizzy. Mr. Waverly ordered them to take a weekend off, and Illya nearly tugged Napoleon outside by his belt buckle. 

"Buy me a sandwich." 

Napoleon blinked. "What?" 

"I want to try Ho Fat's," Illya said. "It's in Brooklyn, but we can take the subway." 

Ho Fat's disguised itself as a Chinese takeout like any other, but the fare was wildly different--Illya stabbed blindly at items on the menu, and they ended up with gigantic insulated containers of a spicy, aromatic beef soup with mounds of thin rice noodles, and sandwiches on crusty baguettes stuffed with a kind of spiced pork belly, carrots, cilantro, sweet vinegar, hot peppers that Napoleon choked on slightly, and a smear of liver pate. Illya dropped bread crumbs all over the subway coach and dripped broth onto his jeans. He seemed ravenously happy. 

"I have to tell you a secret," Illya said, as they bit at each others' necks on Napoleon's couch again. 

"Mmm? What?" Napoleon nibbled on Illya's throat, tongue brushing over the jugular. 

"I was assigned to work with you in hopes that I would--I would seduce you, and distract you from women." Illya gasped as he felt Napoleon's teeth graze his skin. 

"But you weren't assigned to me. We chose to--ohh." Napoleon hummed happily as Illya's hand found his inner thigh. Illya had originally been assigned to Section Three, gathering intelligence. Napoleon had made it his business to befriend the lone Russian in UNCLE New York, and before long was pulling Illya along on missions for surveillance assistance. Napoleon had put in a strong recommendation to promote him to Section Two after Illya had "taken a more active role in the mission and excelled at unexpected tasks"--which was to say, pretending to be a testy astrophysicist, pulling off a complex scheme to remove Napoleon as a test subject for some kind of hypnotic sound cannon, blowing up the hypnotic sound cannon by placing it next to the most gigantic speaker Napoleon had ever seen, and performing a very nice flying jump kick. 

"Don't you understand, Napoleon?" Illya slid his tongue into Napoleon's mouth. "I was trained to be your sex toy." He blinked bashfully at Napoleon. 

"Trained in the Soviet Union to be a spy sex toy," Napoleon said. "A honeypot." 

"Just sex toy. Sold to highest bidder." Illya's accent grew thicker, husky and seductive instead of feathery and sensual. 

(Napoleon frowned. "The idea helps me--get out of my head," Illya explained. "To enjoy sex instead of thinking I'm somehow above it." 

"You don't want me to do this all the time, Illya, do you?" Napoleon asked. 

Illya shrugged. "Only when I feel like it," he said. "Or when you feel like it.") 

"Sold, hmm?" Napoleon stroked Illya's chin. 

"Sold for you to use," Illya says. "Trained to suck cock." He closes his eyes, looking ecstatic. 

"Okay, Little Flower," Napoleon says, and now that's Illya's name as Napoleon's Russian slut, his assigned whore, his pet concubine. Napoleon strokes his hair and compliments his legs, his big blue eyes, and his pretty red lips that were made for sucking cock. 

Illya fellates his owner's thumb and swallows down his cock, then lets Napoleon bend him over the sofa and carelessly fuck him. Illya fawns on his lap and begs Napoleon to use his ass. He asks Napoleon to jerk off on his face, to paint his face with come and make him feel pretty. 

Napoleon nearly faints. 

There is another time Napoleon tongues Illya's ass until it's open and pink and wet, and Illya's cock is leaking hard against his stomach. But Illya isn't allowed to touch it, his hands bound up and tied to Napoleon's headboard. 

That's when Napoleon slides his cock against Illya's stomach. "You feel that? That's how far into your body my cock's going to go." Illya carries on and laments the size of Napoleon's cock. 

"It's too big," he moans theatrically. "You're going to tear me apart." 

Napoleon can't quite taunt Illya the way the junior agent outlined, so he tries another tactic. "Mmm, you're going to be all loose and stretched out. My cock's going to ruin the fun of all those other agents who use you." 

He presses in slow, inch by inch, making sure Illya can feel every inch of it. Illya shivers and gasps, telling Napoleon that he can't take the incredible size, begging him to be merciful. Napoleon isn't, bringing Illya to a slow orgasm that makes his whole body spasm. 

Napoleon turns the tables a few times, play-acting a THRUSH agent forcing Illya to crack under the incredible pleasure of his mouth. He kneels between Illya's legs and sucks, licks, savors the taste of Illya's hard cock. He asks Illya to take the reins, fucking Napoleon into the mattress, and Napoleon decides that he doesn't like being fucked much--sucking cock is one thing, something not as invasive, something that was even a pleasure to work the mouth against. 

"Pretty Little Flower," Napoleon says, painting Illya's eager face and open mouth with his come.


End file.
